


Shock Me, Daddy

by MarionThorne



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Erotic Electrostimulation, M/M, Oral Sex, also there isn't any daddy kink that's just what i like to say to the doc in-game, that's all this is folks, two thousand words of un-beta'd porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarionThorne/pseuds/MarionThorne
Summary: Dwight had taken to his developing bad habit of watching any events taking place involving that dashing black coat and the murderous man wearing it.





	Shock Me, Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys won't write tawdry porn of the Doctor, then I will! And it won't be beta-read! >:Y

They’d made a spectacular mess of this round from the very beginning and even now there were still four generators required to open the gates. Having displayed a level of arrogant playfulness typically only reserved for the Wraith, the four of the gathered survivors had neglected doing generators in favor of playing silly buggers with the killer. Well, Ace, Nea and Meg had; to their chagrin (of which Nea was loudly and profanely vocal of) Dwight had taken to his developing bad habit of watching any events taking place involving that dashing black coat and the murderous man wearing it.

He’s not sure if it’s his inaction or his teammate’s bold disregard for the status quo of the realm, but now the other three are dead and an iron grasp has established him atop the broad shoulders he had been admiring previously. Even if he were to wiggle out of that firm grip, he knows from past experience that the hatch wouldn’t have appeared yet.

From his vantage point of several feet above the ground – “How is anyone even this tall?” he dangled idly and wondered – his eyes follow the sway of the dark Doctor’s coat from side to side, side to side, before sliding down (from his perspective, at least.) An urge boils up before becoming a thought, and now Dwight is certain that were he in the real world, he’d likely be put into a mental hospital – perhaps one similar to the institution he’s in now. Lery’s Memorial Institute, he recalls Claudette accounting to the group from a manila folder. Although nothing about the realm he finds himself in could be related to anything nearing sane, he figures even the number who’ve become desensitized to the horror of the Entity’s trials, now likely gathered all together at the safety of the campfire sans Dwight himself, would give him a skeptical side-eye at his upcoming behavior.

Nothing he does will keep the worst from coming as it always does eventually, and he’s tired of watching. He doesn’t even have to reach to get two generous handfuls of taut, muscular butt, but it only lasts a second before he finds himself dropped painfully onto the ground. He’s momentarily glad that he doesn’t remember the guarded outline of a secret offering rising from the embers, because he’s certain that at least he’s not going to be mori’d for his transgressions.

Though, this is a very similar position to the Doctor readying a mori, he reflects nervously: Dwight’s on his side and the Doctor has knelt down on one knee over his hips, and he watches those hands everywhere they go before one of them grips his chin between thumb and forefinger to make him look the killer in the face.  Slowly, deliberately, the Doctor maintains eye contact as his other hand moves downward out of Dwight’s field of vision.

He’s not expecting him to mimic his previous actions by grabbing hold of Dwight’s ass, and he most certainly doesn’t squeak.

The hand stays where it is, unmoving, not clutching but just resting there and as the moments tick on, Dwight begins to decipher what little he can from the mostly immobile face before him. Dwight figures he could get up right now if he wanted to – he wouldn’t make it far, but there’s no force to the Doctor’s actions and he’s fairly sure that he wouldn’t leave unmolested per se, but there would be no literal merit to the term.

But… he hesitates. There’s been a fair share of fooling around at the campfire (he’s certainly had more sex since he came here than before, sadly enough), but this is _new._ There’s a reason Dwight’s taken to watching the Doctor during trials, and it has no small part to do with the fact that he is tall and thick in all the ways none of his companions are.

He reaches forward and catches the Doctor’s static lower lip between his for just a moment before pulling at the lapels of the black jacket to try and get the man to stand up. It’s always intimidating to see someone who’s splattered the soil with your blood standing above you, but this time it’s a thrill to look up and see that hulking form overhead.

Hauling himself to his knees is an effort that sends his head spinning, but thick fingers clasp upon his shoulder once he gets upright and hold him steady. Dwight shudders at the feel of electricity running in paths down his flesh even through his ragged shirt. He’s only able to meet that bright eyed stare for a moment before the Doctor sets his other hand to unbuttoning his pants. He hasn’t even gotten the zip down before Dwight’s pushing his hand away with his nose to press it against the prize underneath.

The fabric against his face is warm from the flesh it contained. The scent of musk is heavy but not unpleasantly so and he can’t resist the urge to taste it. A few kitten licks are all he offers before the dry texture and taste of cotton move him to impatiently tug the underwear low enough to reveal what he really wants.

Dwight shifts impatiently at the sight of the cock just inches from his face and moves to readjust himself in his pants. He himself is already half-way hard and when he takes the Doctor in one hand he can feel the stiffness of the flesh in his palm. He shuffles a bit closer. It’s not the first time he’ll have had a dick in his mouth, but he’s a bit nervous about handling one this size.

He jumps at the hand in his hair and tilts his head to meet those unnaturally vivid eyes and finds himself peculiarly unable to decipher the Doctor’s expression. Those charred fingers brush through his hair almost tenderly before urging him forward. Dwight holds his gaze and obliges, opening his mouth wide to close around the tip.

A giggly, shuddering groan sounds above him. He pushes against the spongey tissue in his mouth with his tongue and the hand in his hair pauses its ministrations to rest against his scalp, fingers tightening around the strands momentarily. The hand he’d had pressed against his crotch moves up to wrap around the base of the shaft and he uses that grip to hold the cock in place while he allows his tongue to trace around the flare of the crown, dip into the slit and flick against the frenulum.

It’s not until the aborted thrust against his face and the impatient grunt that Dwight finally surges forth around the cock in his mouth. He takes a couple of inches into his mouth, pulls back, pushes a little farther forward before setting a steady rhythm of bobbing back and forth along the parts of the shaft not covered by his hand.

His glasses are fogging up and he focuses instead on the subtle sounds that the Doctor makes. The man’s voice is rich but not deep and lifts on each groan; it sends shivers down Dwight’s spine and he moans around his mouthful, eliciting an excited buck that makes him gag.

His cock twitches in his pants. He pulls back from the cock in his mouth with only a moment’s trepidation and mild embarrassment at what he’s going to say. “Fuck my mouth?” he asks before he opens his jaws in offering.

Only dimly able to see the Doctor’s face through his misty lenses, he focuses on the usually unnervingly intense stare as the killer guides his cock back between his lips surprisingly gently, both hands now guiding his head to move. Dwight focuses on what little of his face isn’t hindered by the apparatus: his eyebrows tilted up and drawn together, the peculiar shade of blood-flushed flesh along his cheeks and the crest of his ears, and the way his throat and jaw flex and tense as he moves.

He moans, embarrassed at how aroused he’s getting just from the feeling of the hard length of flesh dragging back and forth through his lips, dipping just the slightest bit into his throat. He doesn’t gag now that he’s expecting it but his vocalizations drive the Doctor into moving faster and maneuvering his head like a toy for his pleasure.

Dwight braces himself with one hand against the Doctor’s thigh, allowing his cock to slip deeper into his throat, and the other hand moves to his trousers to free his own throbbing length. There’s already a wet spot when he can’t resist pressing into his hand before unzipping himself and he shivers appreciatively against the feeling of the eternally cool evening air against his wet crown.

He cups his palm around it, smearing the scarce amount of pre onto his hand with his rubbing. He barely registers the mischievous glint in the Doctor’s eyes before one of those strong slack-clad legs is pressing between his knees to rub tantalizingly against his cock, pushing a moan up from his belly and reverberating around the flesh in his throat.

Dwight could take a hint, and it wasn’t hard at all to give in to his body’s urges to rock his hips against the leg between his while enthusiastically bobbing his head along the girthy member. Somehow his oral endeavors served to heighten the sensation of his cock sliding back and forth across rough fabric. He jolted upright at a particularly strong surge of pleasure before resuming his rocking, feeling somewhat naughty about humping someone’s leg like a dog while getting his face fucked.

After a while, he’s got a rhythm going. He doesn’t have to think, just move: move his head and hips forward at the same time, and his reward is a flow of pleasure and increasingly louder noises from above him.

Dwight’s not sure how long it is before the Doctor really begins fucking his face, hilting into his throat with each forceful thrust. He moans encouragingly, rolling his hips faster even though he’s nowhere near close and knows the Doctor’s orgasm must be near for how often the cock twitches against his palette.

His head is forcibly tilted upwards again. He only has a moment to wonder when those hands had moved to bracket the sides of his head when sensation the intensity of which he’s only felt in negative connotations almost jolts him off the cock in his mouth with how he unconsciously tries to stiffen straight up.

He can’t see; has he lost his glasses? – in actuality, his eyes have rolled up beneath their skin covering – and it takes him a moment to figure out that he’s not feeling pain for how strong the electricity dancing through his brain is.

It feels _unbelievably_ good, and he’s barely stopped screaming when something wet and hot covers his cheek and splatters lightly across his nose. He can barely discern the familiar sound of the Doctor panting beneath his own drawn-out breaths, brought deep into his chest and pushed out in an almost comically exaggerated fashion.

He’s shaking when he finally opens his eyes, surprised at the pleasure that’s so swiftly pooled in his gut, intensifying with each stuttering drag of his hips against the leg still pressed beneath his.

He groans brokenly as his pace ratchets up, desperately chasing his finish and thirsty for the electricity still sparking against his temples.

“P-Please…! Again! So-...so close!” His sounds wrecked even to his own ears and he’d think he’d be mortified if he didn’t want to come so badly.

The Doctor chuckles amusedly before kneeling down, not even moving his leg from where Dwight’s using it as a humping post, and pressing his forehead against Dwight’s to look him in the eyes. A quick jolt has Dwight stilling on the precipice, too overloaded to move but not enough to tip him over and the Doctor has to hold his head in place to keep him from thrashing out of his grip.

Finally deigning mercy, Dwight’s screams echo across the empty institute as a lasting surge completes a circuit through his head, jacking all the right neurons into the brightest wave of ecstasy he’s ever felt as his orgasm rips through him. It burns inside his head, curls tight and hot and wonderful in his groin where he curls around himself, still rubbing his cock furiously against the Doctor’s pants, gripping the man’s coat so tightly that his fingers cramp. He can feel drool sliding down his chin, tastes the salty flavor of spend dripping onto his lips, savors the pulsing delight flushing through his body in bursts.

It feels like it lasts forever before he finally slackens. His form shivers and twitches from the onslaught and he doesn’t fight when he’s picked up once again.

Unconsciousness cares little for where he goes.


End file.
